Now is a poem written by Charles Bukowski, here is an excerpt: “I sit here on the 2nd floor hunched over in yellow pajamas still pretending to be a writer. some damned gall, at 71, my brain cells eaten away by life.” I’ve heard that people don’t like Bukowski because they think he was just… Continue reading Now: Bukowski, thoughts, and not conquering my fears.

My dad was born in 1971 and grew up with a sister and a single mother in Palmdale, California. He ended up then marrying my mother and having 3 daughters(this guy was destined to be surrounded by women, I suppose) He is funny, intelligent, and has a bunch of cool tattoos that I found endlessly… Continue reading My Dad: The man who taught me how to be a feminist.